


Spring Fever

by CarolNJoy



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: 18th Century, Bonding, Budding Love, Character Study, Confessions, Disney, During Canon, F/M, Falling In Love, France (Country), Friendship, Inspired by Art, Love, One Year Later, Picnics, Post-Canon, Reading, Romance, Shipping, Spring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolNJoy/pseuds/CarolNJoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a beautiful spring day, the servants suggest the Beast take Belle for a picnic out across the castle's lake. Inspired by Thomas Kinkade's work, "Beauty and the Beast II." </p><p>One year later, both the Prince and Lumière have confessions to make to their respective loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Before reading, I would definitely recommend taking a peek at the artwork that inspired this short story. And maybe while you're at it, looking at the rest of Thomas Kinkade's Disney collection because it's just so beautiful and well-thought out! Even if you don't, I hope my writing was enough to create a good visual that mimics that of his painting, "Beauty and the Beast II."
> 
> I thought this was also a marvelous chance to delve deeply into both Belle's and the Beast's characters, which I normally don't have the opportunity to do in most of my writing, so feedback would be much appreciated! Enjoy!

_Rebirth._

That was the one word that Belle thought of when she caught her first glimpse of spring at the château. It was the most amazing transformation. The bare branches of trees once covered with snow and ice were budding between the powder and crystals, eagerly wanting to shed their winter coats. The frozen lake the château sat upon slowly but surely began to break apart as fresh water gushed from the ravine that ran underneath the lonely, magnificent architecture. It seemed each time she passed a window, a spot of color would appear: the blue of the sky, the pink of the tree blossoms, the yellow of marigolds on the lake, and green _everywhere_ , from the grass, to the moss, to the ivy that climbed and clung to the château's stone towers.

One morning, Belle woke to find the sun blazing through her window, and she couldn't help but smile. After a quick stretch, she threw back the covers and danced her way to the glass, pushing the curtains aside for a better view.

The trees' leaves were all practically grown in, and the flowers on the grass, in the gardens, and on the water dotted the world beneath in a rainbow of colors as they reached for the sun's rays. Light, white, wispy clouds were streaked across the cerulean ocean of the sky, like the ripples on a beach's sand.

It was absolutely _glorious_.

Belle heaved a contented sigh. "Spring is here," she announced.

With a snort, the wardrobe, Madame de la Grand Bouche, shook herself awake. "I'm not a monkey handler, you got—" Her dream fading, she glanced around the room before spotting Belle. "Oh, good morning, dear!"

Belle closed her eyes for a moment to bask in the warmth before turning her head to the wardrobe to agree, "It _is_ a good morning."

She then heard heavy clunks as the wardrobe took herself away from her place against the wall to get a peek of the outdoors.

"My, look at that! Spring already." Her sigh mimicked Belle's as she used one of her doors' elegant handles to pull the other curtain back. "A perfect day. I'm sure it's just lovely out there!" She harrumphed a little laugh. "If only I could fit through the door!" Glancing over at Belle, who continued to gaze longingly outside, she suggested, "Why don't you take a nice walk today? This weather just begs you to get some fresh air!"

Belle gave her a shrug of a smile. "I would love to, but I promised I would read with him in the library."

"Well, that is a day worthwhile, of course, but… you _can_ read anywhere," Madame de la Grand Bouche had to point out.

She had to concede to that. "I think I know that better than anyone!"

However, since they had sorted out their differences after the wolf attack, Belle had become keener to the Beast's sensitivity to change. He was a creature of habit, after all. Belle's guess was that he had become so accustomed to seclusion that it was only instinctual to be hesitant toward anything outside of his comfort zone, which mostly included going outside. Sure, there was the snowball fight last month when they went to feed the birds returning from migration, but that had taken plenty of effort, even with Lumière, Cogsworth, and Mrs. Potts urging him to go.

Belle smiled at the memory. He was definitely getting better, but she felt that she shouldn't push him more than necessary. If she had learned anything, it was that he had his limits.

Thoughtfully, she replied, "I suppose we can see how he takes it."

"I think if anyone can get him outside, _you_ can, dear. Now!" the wardrobe beamed, initiating her favorite part of the day: dressing up Belle. "What shall we wear today? With the prospects of a delightful spring stroll, we should wear something _warm_ , don't you think? Like a nice saffron, or even vermilion! Ah, yes!" She pulled out a muted red dress with lace on the bodice and sleeves. "Quite eye-catching, isn't it?" she nudged with a smirk. "He'll simply _have_ to follow you into the sunshine while you're wearing this!"

"It's lovely, really," Belle put down gently, though admittedly the dress was not in her taste, "but I was hoping I could dress, well, a little more casually today. I wouldn't want to possibly damage it if we do manage to go outside." She looked up hopefully at the wardrobe. "You wouldn't happen to have my blue frock ready, would you?"

"Hm," Madame de la Grand Bouche hummed in disapproval as she returned the vermilion gown to her rack. "I did just so happen to repair the tears in it from that one night… But I don't see why you insist on keeping it, much less _wearing_ it. It doesn't exactly do you any favors, dear! You have a stunning figure, and that old thing just drowns it out!"

Having heard this opinion before, Belle gave an understanding smile but maintained, "Perhaps that's the case, but I would still like to wear it, if you please." When the wardrobe pouted, Belle firmly crossed her arms. "It _is_ comfortable," she defended.

"All right, Miss Belle, you win this round," the wardrobe granted congenially, sifting through the back of her drawers for it. "But at dinner, I _insist_ you wear something a little more presentable."

"Of course, madame, I promise," Belle assured, graciously receiving her familiar sky blue frock. Even the sight of it was comforting.

Putting it on, she felt she could breathe easier, and not merely because the other dresses Madame had her wear included corsets. The worn feel of the cotton, the mobility in the sleeves, the breeziness of the calf-length skirt, it all felt… like home.

She wouldn't dare admit it, not to anyone. What could they do? She had made a promise. Maybe she had consented to the impulse to break it, but things were different now. She enjoyed his company, more than she ever thought she could, and he was trying his hardest to make her feel at home here, not to mention everything that the cast of enchanted objects had done for her.

But… it just wasn't the same.

She missed Papa. With all her might, she wished she could see him, just once, even for only a day, an hour. Despite everything she had here—friends, royal accommodations, a library that she could call _hers_ —it wasn't complete without her father by her side. If only she could tell him all that had happened, the experience that she had been through, the surprises she had endured, the changes she was seeing in the Beast…

"Are you all right there, dear?"

Belle glanced up from her blueberry porridge to find a porcelain teapot looking at her with concern. "Oh, I'm sorry! Yes, I'm all right. Just… daydreaming. A bad habit," she added with a grin.

Mrs. Potts noticed her eyes drift to the window. "You've got something on your mind?"

She bit her lip. "Well…" Should she mention her wish to go outside for a while? From her seat, she could identify the perfect reading spot across the river under a willow tree. "Maybe there is something…"

The elderly teapot followed her gaze and her mouth turned into a knowing smile. "It's a perfect day to spend outside, isn't it?"

"I couldn't imagine a nicer one," Belle said sincerely, but she decided to keep her wishes to herself. She stood from her empty bowl. "Well, I'm off to the library! If he's not there already, would you mind letting him know for me?"

"Of course, dearie, I'll make sure he doesn't keep you waiting," Mrs. Potts informed. She watched Belle leave as she gave her thanks for breakfast, thinking again how lucky they were to have had such a kind and considerate girl happen upon the castle.

* * *

As the other dishes were cleaning themselves up, Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth were perched on the island, conversing in hushed tones, as the maître d' himself made his boisterous entrance.

" _Bon matin, mes amis_!" Lumière exclaimed, hopping his way onto the counter to look out the window by the sink. "Would you look at this weather! I cannot even recall a day that snow has not been in sight!"

"That's precisely what Cogsworth and I were talking about," Mrs. Potts revealed, having to smile at the candelabrum's exuberance.

"Both of you should take a step onto the grounds, truly! Babette and I only just returned from the fresh air."

Crossing his decorative brass arms, the mantel clock chastened Lumière with a glare. "So _that's_ where you've been all morning?"

Lumière replied with a cavalier shrug before snatching up a nearby inanimate spatula to hurdle himself across the gap to the island. Brushing off the feat nonchalantly, he advised the majordomo, "Perhaps you should follow our lead. It did not require any special effort on our part, but you in particular might have to… 'spring forward'!"

Cogsworth couldn't be less amused. "You were just _waiting_ to use that pun, weren't you? Are you going to suggest I 'unwind' next?"

The maître d' flashed him his signature debonair grin. "As a matter of fact…" At Cogsworth's peeved expression, he laughed with good nature. "I am only joking, _mon ami_! How have you not caught on to the spring fever?" The clock rolled his eyes and refused to respond, but it was hardly noticed as Lumière turned to Mrs. Potts to say, "Which reminds me: I happened to pass by the library on my way here, and it seems our dear mademoiselle aches to enjoy the sun as much as she should."

"Did you address her about it?" Cogsworth asked skeptically.

"There was no need! Gazing out the window in the same way the Master looks at her when she is blissfully unaware?" he compared with a smirk. "It could not have been plainer."

"It seems you're caught up on the goings-on then," the housekeeper observed with delightful conspiracy. "I was just telling Cogsworth that this is the perfect opportunity for the Master to take her out for a little excursion."

Lumière's eyes and wicks lit up at the idea. "Ah, yes, of course! He could take her out on the water, or even—"

"A picnic," Mrs. Potts finished with bubbling excitement.

"Precisely! If only I could do the same with _ma plumette_. The weather could not be more in their favor!"

"Yes, yes, that is all well and good," Cogsworth burst, seeming to have been mulling over this during the entire proceedings, "but did you forget one very significant detail?"

Mrs. Potts grimaced knowingly but appeared undeterred. Lumière, on the other hand, was optimistically oblivious. He waved a sconce dismissively. "What could possibly prevent them from having a romantic picnic along the lake?"

The majordomo stared as though it was obvious. "The Master _hates_ the lake!"

Lumière's jaw dropped as he remembered, promptly face-sconcing himself for his failing memory. "Of course! The one moment I wasn't looking…"

"And he jumped into the lake, convinced he could swim without help," Cogsworth concluded accusatorily. "He almost _drowned_ because of your carelessness!"

"Babette came out to bring me a refreshment! It was a hot day!" Lumière had to defend, but he still felt guilty for letting himself become so distracted with his paramour. The prince had only been seven years old, hardly a year after his parents had passed away, when he had decided he wanted to be out by the water, but Lumière had been assigned to watch on the dock to make sure he hadn't tried to actually attempt to swim when he never had been taught. Luckily, Lumière could stay afloat enough to fish the sobbing prince out.

"Now, all's been forgiven about that," Mrs. Potts interceded, looking pointedly at Cogsworth, who had been prepping a rebuttal. "That was a long time ago. He couldn't be afraid now. Remember that accident out in the woods when _Belle_ almost drowned? He dove in to get her, didn't have to think twice!"

"What I mean to say is, as a _choice_ , he refuses to go out on the lake, and I can't say that I blame him," Cogsworth remarked. "That was an unfortunate circumstance that I'm certain he doesn't wish to risk revisiting."

"But this is _spring!_ " Lumière insisted. "There is no weak ice to fall through, and the water is surely cold but not enough to get frostbite. Besides, I am convinced that if Belle declares her desire for an afternoon by the lake, the Master will oblige, even if hesitantly. I have seen him _waiting_ for the chance to make her happy! He couldn't deny her such a simple request!"

"Aren't we placing a little too much faith in his feelings for her?" Cogsworth tested, playing the voice of sound logic. "Not that I don't hope he won't make the exception in her case, but it seems a bit too soon for him to challenge his fears on her behest. And let's not forget that Belle knows nothing of the incident."

"That is why _we_ have to convince him to do this for her," Mrs. Potts debated. "Belle, the sweet girl, will never say a word of it because she can see he doesn't like to venture outdoors for the pleasure of it, but if he offers to take a day outside _together_ , she will appreciate it even more."

Back to his previous, buoyant mood, Lumière agreed, "It's perfect! Nothing could spur _l'amour_ more swiftly than a quiet afternoon under a green and blue canopy. Hopefully, at this rate, spring fever will not be the only thing they catch."

Cogsworth furrowed his brow. "I thought you were a firm advocate of the 'let love take its course' business."

"True," the maître d' allowed, crossing his arms. "But I see nothing unreasonable in giving a little nudge in the right direction."

"That was precisely my point!"

"When?"

"During spring cleaning!" the majordomo reminded, his gears getting in a twist. "To make the atmosphere as romantic as possible? There was a big to-do about it that's rather hard to forget!"

Remaining aggravatingly calm, Lumière reasoned with a shrug, "I never said you were wrong."

"You never said I was _right_ either!"

"Let's get off to the Master's then, shall we?" Mrs. Potts mediated, whistling for her tea cart. "We've kept Belle waiting long enough."

* * *

The Beast gazed at the wilting enchanted rose floating in its bell jar, something that had become a meditating habit over the course of his imprisonment. It had been excruciating to accept his reality when he had first turned into a beast. In fact, the struggle persisted for years; It had become more of a reflex than anything when he caught sight of his reflection to immediately turn away, as though he needed any more reminders of what he was. Lately, his reality was a challenge to comprehend once more, but this time, it was for the hope of something better.

Since he had saved her from those wolves, things between him and Belle had been changing. She wasn't afraid of him. She had even fought against him. She hadn't tried to run out of fear, but because he had been a less than amicable host. That had been something he hadn't been able to wrap his mind around until recently. She hadn't despised how he looked, but of how he had acted and treated those around him.

Belle had presented him with something he could only begin to repay; that someone could care about him without any obligations. She could be fighting him still, or purposely trying to keep her distance, but she wasn't. She was seeking out his company, sharing with him her passions and dreams, patiently helping him wade through the parts of him that he hated, and building up what he knew he lacked.

The dark side of his mind that fed him feelings of worthlessness would make him think that she was doing this out of pity, that she was only here because she had made him a promise, but now he had reasons for an argument.

She could leave. She had even tried. But because he had saved her, she felt a sense of honor to stay. And Belle had never seemed to pity him. She had never felt sorry for him. She had empathized with him, had even shown that she _wanted_ to understand. She seemed too proud to do anything that she didn't feel was right, and being around him appeared to make her… happy.

Again, this was an enigma he could hardly register. He would ask himself so many times what it was about him that she saw and could like. He didn't think he was anything particularly special. Due to his spoiled and rotten behavior as a child, he was uneducated, uncivilized, and painfully awkward. She deserved a handsome, strong, wealthy man who could fulfill her dreams. What could he provide?

Wait… he was a _prince._ At least, he had been. He could be. He had a chance to be one again. If she could love him.

The Beast shook his head with a grunt. _Don't think about that_ , he admonished. He promised himself he wouldn't look that far into the future. He wanted to enjoy the present, the time he had left, getting to know Belle.

 _Belle._ He suddenly glanced up to his balcony's curtains, ones that were newly replaced by the servants just last month. Shoving them aside, the sunshine blasted him with its rays and made his eyes hurt. It was already well into daylight. They were supposed to read in the library today, this very morning.

She was probably waiting for him.

Bounding over his bed with all fours, he rushed to the door in a panic, but right upon opening it, he saw a tea cart carrying a teapot, mantel clock, and candelabrum was skidding to a halt right before him.

"I'm late," the Beast said, believing that was a clear enough excuse as he tried to step around the tea trolley.

"Oh yes, dear, we're well-aware," Mrs. Potts hurriedly replied. "But there is something very important we must discuss with you first. It's about Belle."

"Is she in the library?" he asked anxiously. His muscles were tensed to sprint to wherever she was. How could he have let time escape him? Had it been a half hour, hour, three hours?

"Now, now, Master, Belle is not going anywhere," Lumière eased with a smile. "Last I saw, she was nose-deep in a book. I am sure she is perfectly content to wait another moment for you."

Resigned to be satisfied with this reassurance, the Beast pouted expectantly. "Well, what is it? You said it's about Belle?"

Mrs. Potts and Lumière exchanged excited glances and nodded, but Cogsworth continued to look apprehensive.

"Absolutely!" the maître d' exclaimed. "In fact, we know a secret of hers that we do not think she would be willing to share unless you say something first."

The Beast's ears perked up. "A secret? What secret?"

Lumière smirked with subtle triumph. The casanova had far too much practice weaving words to entice, charm, and intrigue, and the Master was no exception.

At this display from him, Cogsworth just rolled his eyes.

Mrs. Potts perked up, "Well, Master, I'm sure you might have noticed how lovely a day it is out there. Perfect spring weather."

"It's… nice," the Beast grumbled uncomfortably. "What does that have to do with Belle?"

"But that is it, Master!" Lumière settled. "Belle wishes to take advantage of the first beautiful day of the year."

The Beast grimaced in what looked like pain. "… She does?"

"Of course! That is not uncommon after as harsh a winter as the one we've had," Lumière patiently clarified.

Seeming as much the awkward teenager as he really was on the inside, the Beast rubbed the back of his mane. "Well… What would you have me do?"

Mrs. Potts and Lumière grinned at each other before the teapot replied, "We think this is a marvelous opportunity to perform another grand romantic gesture. Perhaps a picnic by the lake? Belle, I'm sure, would appreciate it beyond words!"

Lip curling rather distastefully, the Beast checked, "The lake?"

At this severe sign of hesitation, Cogsworth finally stepped in, "We understand that the thought of being on the water may be disconcerting—"

"But think of what Belle wants," Lumière cut off, predicting Cogsworth was about to present the Master with the choice _not_ to go. "Besides, it will do wonders for you! It is not healthy to stay cooped up inside for so long."

"I haven't been outside the castle since the beginning," the Beast stated matter-of-factly, but realized as he spoke, "except… because of Belle."

"And look how much it's helped, especially with Belle!" Lumière emphasized.

"But—" The Beast stumbled to figure out a feasible argument. Even if it was what Belle wanted, he had never really liked the outdoors, and if he had hated the lake before, it wasn't compared to now after how it had almost taken Belle's life.

"It can't hurt, can it, dear?" Mrs. Potts persuaded.

"Sire, despite what you may be thinking, this kind of 'grand romantic gesture' is rather vital in our current circumstances," Cogsworth annexed, glancing over at the enchanted rose, which was drooping its thinning head. Another petal fell as they watched, and the servants collectively cringed.

The majordomo's voice jumped up an octave. "S—So perhaps it would be best to get past whatever feelings that inhibit you from taking this step forward with Belle," he rapidly advised. " _Now…_ Please."

Mrs. Potts and Lumière nodded in thorough agreement, still shaken from the rose's smack of reality.

The Beast sighed begrudgingly. " _Fine_. I'll… talk to Belle about… a picnic."

The objects' mouths all spread into huge grins. "Wonderful!" "Marvelous, sire!" "She'll be absolutely delighted!"

With his shoulders slightly hunched, the Beast couldn't help but grumble as he marched off to meet Belle in the library. There was a part of him that still wanted to be selfish, but knowing now that Belle very much wanted to spend the day outside, he could not ignore that fact. He had the power to make her happy today, and as long as the day was spent with her, he would enjoy himself, too… right?

 _Here's hoping,_ the prince thought.


	2. Part Two

Why did he even try?

The Beast had spent the entire trek there delicately wording his offer. Upon entering the library and seeing the vision of her, it all went with the wind.

Belle sat with feet curled under her on a cushioned window seat. The sun's rays shined through the glass, finding the dark honey-gold strands in her brown hair. Oddly, she wore her old blue frock again instead of the gowns the wardrobe had her wear. And yet, she didn't quite look the same as she had when she had first arrived at the château.

She smiled at the book in her hands, his best guess being she was reading a touching moment. He loved watching her react to mere words on a page. He hadn't thought books could do that until she had introduced him to what they contained. They were about life, and people struggling to find answers and conquer their own personal challenges. Sometimes they succeeded, but sometimes they didn't, and that had somehow given the Beast comfort. If he failed in breaking this curse, it wasn't for lack of trying, and he wouldn't be the first, in fiction or non, to fall short.

He tried to approach Belle in what seemed a casual pace across the vast library. He grasped for his cape, and drew it around him. Though it didn't help the brooding image he exuded, he had used that cape as a shield to hide behind for so long that he felt exposed without it.

How was he going to ask? _Should I mention the picnic?_ he second-guessed. He considered making it a surprise, like when he gave her the library. She had been overjoyed then. Maybe he could get her to feel that way again.

 _What should I_ say _?!_ he cried in his mind. Why did this always seem so hard? He felt silly having Mrs. Potts, Lumière, and Cogsworth always tell him what to do, but the idea of romance left him feeling lost. Friendship, on the other hand, he was able to handle on his own well enough, however awkwardly.

 _Ask as a friend,_ he settled. _Notice her looking outside, and then bring it up._ He gave himself a firm nod as his plan was established.

Coming to a chapter's conclusion, Belle was able to notice the new and familiar presence that had entered the room. She looked up with a smile at the Beast as she marked her page. "Good morning!"

"Good morning," he quietly replied, his plan remaining at the forefront of his thoughts. He looked to the closed book in her hands and pointed. "What happened?"

Belle raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

That wasn't the first time the Beast was glad he had fur as he felt his cheeks and ears grow warm. "In your book," he clarified in a low, gravelly tone. "I saw you smile at it… What was it?"

"Oh! Of course," Belle grinned, her own cheeks becoming rosy. "I'm reading _Much Ado about Nothing_ , when Benedick overhears the others talking about how much Beatrice loves him but refuses to show it."

He thought for a moment, remembering. "The one where they hated each other first?"

"Right," she affirmed with a nod, rising from her seat to put it back on the shelf. "But I believe they always loved each other. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin, after all. They just needed a little help figuring it out for themselves." She briefly cradled the book over her heart before returning it to its place under one of the staircases.

"So… uh…" There was still no sign of Belle showing her interest in the spring day outside. Did he just pretend to go along with what they had originally planned? "Which… book are we reading now?"

"I thought we could try _Don Quixote_ today," Belle answered, picking up a thick, heavy book from a side table near the fireplace. "It's about a middle-aged man who reads so many books about chivalry, he starts to believe he really is a knight, so he travels the land trying to save people and right wrongs."

"Does it work?"

Seeing she had caught his interest, Belle smiled. "I guess we'll see!" With the tome under her arm, her hazel eyes sparkled. "I have the perfect place to read set up for us upstairs! Does that sound all right?"

He hadn't quite expected her to ask his opinion. "Uh, yes," he complied. "Of course. Lead the way."

Almost bursting with excitement, she took his paw. "Wonderful!"

The Beast was initially startled by the sudden feel of her hand as he let her lead him to a winding staircase, unsure of whether to grip her hand as well or leave his palm open. He was always afraid of touching her; the last thing he wanted to do was cause her harm because he wouldn't realize his own strength. Since she could only grip one of his fingers in her tiny, delicate hand, he very gently pressed his thumb to her knuckles as they climbed the stairs.

Passing a giant lion carved out of marble between two walls seemingly made out of book bindings, Belle sped-walked to a cozy niche by another window. Two high-backed armchairs were set up by a wooden table, one facing the window, the other to its left which received a more generous view of the grounds across the lake.

Releasing his paw, Belle faced him eagerly to ask, "Do you like it?"

Thinking fast, and assuming she wanted him to refer to the outdoors, he rumbled, "It's… a nice view."

She seemed pleasantly surprised by this observation coming from him, and made a little show of glancing outside as though she hadn't noticed before. "Oh, yes, it really is! It's nice we'll get to read by sunlight for once." Spinning back to him with a hand on the back of one of the chairs, she inquired politely, "Where do you want to sit?"

After a couple seconds of eyeing the seats, the Beast answered with a shrug, "Your least favorite."

Dimples appeared on her cheeks. "Thank you," she said, sounding touched, before sitting in the armchair right next to the glass.

He followed suit as she opened the book and read the first page, but he soon realized he could hardly pay attention. All he could think about was that she really wanted to be out in the sun rather than stuck in the library, and he started to feel antsy because of it.

" _And like Amadis of Gaul,"_ Belle read animatedly, _"he, like a good knight, resolved to add on the name of his kingdom, and to style himself Don Quixote of La Mancha, whereby, he considered, he described accurately his origin and country, and did honor to it in taking his surname from it."_

When she turned the book toward him to try, she seemed to notice his unease. With a look of concern, she asked, "Is something wrong?"

The Beast wished he could mutter curses under his breath. "Well—um, not—uh, there's nothing wrong. There is _nothing wrong_ ," he clarified in resolution.

Belle raised a curious eyebrow, waiting for more. "Then… what is it?"

 _Just spit it out!_ he told himself. He distractedly tapped his nails on the table as the words tumbled from between his tusks, making them almost unintelligible, "Doyouwanttogooutside?"

Her jaw dropped. "Do I… want to go outside?" she had to check.

Had those been his exact words? "Yes," he replied concisely. "I would like you to accompany me… across the lake… today."

Though the Beast couldn't help but feel dread at his own offer, Belle's expression of delight did well to mute it. "Oh, yes, I would love to!"

* * *

The Beast kept quiet as he led the way to the boathouse, a knot slowly tightening in his stomach as he thought about being on the water again. A brief flash of freshwater rapidly flowing into his mouth as he screamed crossed his mind, and he suppressed a shudder. But Belle was at his heels, her excitement tangible. He was doing this to make her happy. This was about her, for her. He took a deep, calming breath.

They stepped outside for the first time, crossing a short stone bridge to the boathouse below, and he heard Belle take an audible sigh of fresh air. Down a staircase, they came beside a gondola of stained mahogany painted a coat of blue that looked good as new bobbing in the water, but it had no pole, or even oars. There was no rope to attach it to the dock either, yet it remained in its place, despite the current.

Remembering his manners, the Beast presented the boat. "After you."

Belle obliged, facing forward as she set the copy of _Don Quixote_ beside her. He took the bench across from her, and almost immediately, the gondola began to move.

With an amazed gasp, she gazed around at their surroundings.

The colors were even more vivid in person. Out in the hills, water tripped and fell over rocks into the ravine from an ice-capped mountain in the distance, and the sun reflected off of its mist to create a faint rainbow. From their gondola, slight ripples moved across the glassy surface of the lake. She could trace them to its farthest edges. They lapped against the roots of a weeping willow that poked through the low cliff it sat on, as though it were enjoying the sensation of dipping its toes in the water. White lilies and cat tails swayed from the minute waves, nodding their heads in satisfaction. The shore they were heading toward was shaded by two giant maples that boasted bright green leaves that became mirages in the wind, their red buds playing hide-and-seek between the branches. At their bases, chrysanthemums in all shades nestled close to the trees like children to their mothers' aprons.

She glanced over at him to share in her wonder, but was disappointed to find that the Beast had his cloak brought around him broodingly, and that his gaze was firmly fixed on the floor of the boat.

How could he not be interested in the world around him?

Belle pursed her lips in thought. Perhaps because he had lived in this château for so long, he had become immune to the land's charm. Could it even evoke a bad memory? Given his mysterious and—one could only guess—tortured past, anything could have happened out here to make him dislike what he saw.

However, no season was the same. No year was the same. He could discover something new to admire and commemorate.

 _But he can't do it alone_ , Belle admitted.

She eagerly placed a hand over his, and he responded immediately. "Look over there!" she directed.

Despite the pleasant surprise of Belle holding his hand a second time in a day, he followed to where she pointed, and he saw that by the weeping willow, a family of ducks were at the lake's brim. The mother duck waded into the water without hesitation while her three ducklings followed. Then a series of chirps were heard from the shore. The mother did a roundabout and responded with a few resounding quacks. One last duckling made its way toward her at her beck and call. Gesturing with her wings, the other ducklings made way for the one that was left behind to take a place right behind their mother in their line. Satisfied, the mother duck took the lead again.

A movement from Belle out of the corner of his eye drew his attention back; she held her hand over her heart. "What is it?" he growled.

She returned her gaze to him. "What? Oh, nothing, only…" With a shrug and smile, she finished, "Nature never ceases to amaze me."

His heavy brow furrowed slightly. "How so?"

Finding herself a bit lost for words, her mouth briefly hung open as she regained her thoughts. "Does this…" She gestured to the awesome beauty surrounding them. "… not do the same?"

After a pause, he paraphrased, "Am I not… amazed by it?"

"Well… yes."

Truthfully, he had never given it much thought. This was where he had grown up, where he had lived since he was born, and now it was his prison. He could not recall much that caused him to appreciate the castle and its land, his inheritance. He was and always had been more concerned with what was happening within and immediately about him, than of what was around him. Perhaps that could be the source of most of his problems.

Belle's eyes continued to be full of an expectant curiosity, and he decided to say what he thought would be satisfactory. "I… suppose it's very… pretty."

From the sympathetic half-grin, Belle seemed to accept that answer, if only temporarily.

A small jolt vibrated through the boat as it hit the shore. Dutifully, the Beast rose and stepped out of the boat before she could move, and offered his paw to her. A gracious smile was on her lips as she took it, with _Don Quixote_ in tow, and carefully stepped off of the gondola. As she glanced down to watch her footing, her cheeks seemed to become a bit rosier than before.

 _Is that… because of me?_ he wondered, the thought actually raising a corner of his mouth.

* * *

"Stop _fussing_ , Cogsworth! We have no time for your tedious perfectionism."

The mantel clock huffed. "I _beg_ your pardon if I wish to make Belle's and the Master's afternoon as ideal as possible! It is only a pivotal moment that could determine all of our fates, _Lumière_ ," he spat with sarcasm.

"I could not agree with you more! But I do not think our fates will be determined by the alignment of the blanket's corners," the candelabrum retorted just as drily. "If that were indeed the case, the wilting rose would be the very least of our problems."

Cogsworth gave an agitated sigh. "Fine, fine! I will wipe my hands of it. Let's move on to arranging the—"

At that moment, a breeze flipped a corner of the picnic blanket, and the clock compulsively waddled over to flatten it on the grass. Lumière just as reflexively face-sconced himself.

"There," Cogsworth said with satisfaction. "Now to the food."

"All right, gents," Mrs. Potts instructed the beer steins. "Set it down by that corner… against the wind," she wisely added.

The steins used their handles to carry the heavy wicker basket to where Cogsworth stood. " _Gently,_ gently!" the clock reminded, reaching out to assist them. "There are glass and silverware in there!"

"None of our own, do not worry," Lumière assured the steins, who hesitated at the majordomo's words.

As soon as they set the basket down, however, a rummaging could be heard from within. The steins, despite not having faces, glanced at the trio as though they'd been betrayed. Cogsworth and Lumière looked just as confused, but Mrs. Potts sighed, a small smile just visible.

Bearing the basket's lid as best as he could, Chip's excited, gap-toothed grin brightened. "Hi, everyone!"

"Chip, what have I told you about sneaking about?" Mrs. Potts chastised sensibly. "You could've gotten hurt in there!"

"But I _really_ wanted to come outside!" the little teacup protested adorably. "Belle and the Master are gonna be here, right?"

"Yes, they are, but we're not staying," the teapot corrected motherly. "We're here to bring them their lunch and that's all, all right?"

" _Awww!_ " Chip whined, his smile drooping. " _Please,_ Mama, can we stay a little while?"

Cogsworth and Lumière exchanged sympathetic smiles. Willing to compromise, Mrs. Potts granted, "You can say 'hi' to Belle, but then we have to be off."

"But—"

"No 'buts' about it, love," Mrs. Potts calmly maintained. "You can play with Belle later on."

Chip pouted morosely. "Fine…" he reluctantly agreed, before slowly lowering himself back into the basket.

The maître d' and majordomo couldn't help but empathize with the young teacup. "You know," Lumière mused, "we do not have to return to the castle any time soon. Why not take a little time for ourselves while we're here?"

Cogsworth furrowed his brow at him, crossing his arms. "What are you suggesting?"

The candelabrum shrugged. "Well, we have our own gondola. We can spend the better part of the afternoon on the lake while keeping an eye on things ashore… enjoying ourselves all the while, of course."

The majordomo was sincerely considering the idea when Chip popped up from the basket again to eagerly inquire, "We're gonna spy on them?"

With an amused smirk, Lumière corrected, "Oh no, _mon fils_ , _spying_ would be intrusive. Non, non, we are merely 'supervising.' It is our job to make sure nothing goes wrong, oui?"

Chip caught on to the maître d's pointed phrasing, nodding with a sly grin. "Ohhh, riiiight. Supervising. Got it! Because that way…

"You can't get into trouble," Lumière and Chip finished together.

"Lumière, what in heaven's name are you teaching him?" Mrs. Potts questioned, wanting to be chiding, but she found herself laughing instead.

"The basics of right and wrong," the candelabrum replied innocently, though his demeanor gave way to his mischievous intentions.

"Oh, yes, like the dos and don'ts of how to skate around the rules!" Cogsworth berated facetiously, his brass arms now akimbo.

"Precisely what I learned when I was his age," Lumière informed without regrets.

"That would explain plenty," Cogsworth muttered, "given how well you turned out."

"As compared to _you_ , Monsieur Meticulous?"

" _Hush_ , boys!" Mrs. Potts gestured to the approaching couple.

Cogsworth followed her eyes in alarm. "Oh, but we didn't arrange the—"

" _Ssh!"_ Lumière and Mrs. Potts hushed.

"Food…" Cogsworth quietly whined, looking severely disappointed.

The Master and Belle walked side-by-side, keeping the pace of a leisurely stroll. Belle was admiring the colors of the greenery with a blissful smile as the prince seemed to be watching her out of the corner of his eye. He stood a little straighter than usual.

They came around the bushes as they heard Belle ask, "Where do you think would be a good—?"

The couple stopped in their tracks. Her expression lit up at the sight of the servants, but the Beast suddenly became nervous.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle!" "Good afternoon, Miss Belle." "Hello, dearie!" they all greeted.

"Hello!" Belle enthusiastically responded, glancing at the picnic basket. "Is that…?"

"A gourmet lunch for two on a beautiful spring afternoon?" Lumière finished with finesse. "Naturally, _chérie_ , as per the Master's request."

Belle spun to the Beast beside her, placing a calming hand on his arm. "This is a wonderful idea!" she heartened.

The Master's ears perked up. "So you like it?"

"I love it!" she emphasized.

They smiled at each other in what could have been a significant moment between two potential lovers, but suddenly—

"Hiya, Belle!" Chip exclaimed from the wicker basket.

Belle answered the call, grinning at the teacup. "Hello, Chip!" She knelt down by the basket and lifted the lid. "What are you doing in there?"

"I snuck in here when Mama wasn't looking," he whispered loudly.

"Come along, love, let's let the Master and Belle eat in peace," Mrs. Potts ordered kindly.

"Okay…" Chip obligingly hopped out of the basket. "See you later, Belle!"

She smiled and waved as the objects hurriedly made themselves scarce.

Though the servants were trying their best to be subtle, Belle wasn't oblivious to the implications they seemed to believe or want between her and the Beast, especially now that they were getting along. However, she thought it was pretty harmless. Her assumption was that they only wanted to continue seeing him in better spirits and they were thinking she was making the difference.

Perhaps she was. She imagined his loneliness had surpassed the amount she had felt while living in Molyneaux. Coupled with the shame and self-loathing he felt… that was something Belle had trouble wrapping her mind around. Though this inner turmoil and pain was not an excuse to act as barbaric as he had, it might have been the primary cause. After he had saved her life, she not only saw a glimpse of the good soul within him, but a chance to repay the debt she owed. If she could help him look past himself and the torture he puts himself through, by books, nature, or whatever means, then he and the rest of the castle's inhabitants could possibly live in a harmonic and peaceful existence. What else could she really do, after all?

Gathering up his courage, the Beast cleared his throat, gesturing for her to sit. "After you."

The corners of her eyes crinkled. "Thank you," she replied, setting herself down in the corner next to the basket. As he kneeled by it, she reached to open its lid.

" _Wait,_ " he blurted. Belle jumped at his sudden exclamation and retracted her hands, but looked to him expectantly.

 _She's not afraid of me,_ he reassured himself, taking a deep breath. Feeling himself grow warm under his fur, he meekly explained, "Allow me."

She calmly set her hands on her lap and consented with a kind nod. Belle let him set the plates and napkins ever so delicately, and she couldn't help but think how sweet he looked taking such extra care on her behalf.

"Have you had many picnics out here before?" she cordially inquired.

He hesitated in arranging her silverware to glance at her. The prince could remember the extravagant garden parties his parents had hosted every year during his youth. In his mind's eye, he saw aristocratic children not yet influenced by their parents' politics and social constructs, indulging in skipping rope and hide-and-seek amongst the parterres and fountains. He had always been too shy and reserved to participate wholeheartedly.

But none of this he could really say without unloading the exposition of him being a cursed prince who needed someone to love him to be free.

The clang of metal on glass rang through the tranquil setting as a fork slipped through the Beast's fingers onto her plate. He cringed at the sound. "Sorry," he grumbled as he moved it to her napkin.

She waited patiently for his reply. He cleared his throat. "Not… very much, no."

"You're not much of an outdoor person, are you?" Belle noted lightheartedly.

He gave her a conceding shrug with his massive shoulders, though he had to smile. "Are you?"

"I wouldn't call myself one either, but I like to take advantage of a nice day when I see one. Although, I admit, reading under a tree on a sunny day that isn't too hot or too cold…" Belle released a melodious laugh. "I practically jump at the chance!"

Though listening intently as she spoke, the Beast had been taking the bowls and plates of food elegantly wrapped in white napkins to maintain their warmth out of the basket. He began untying the cloths to reveal sliced cold pheasant, steamed vegetables, egg salad between freshly baked bread, and cookies filled with various flavors of jam.

Once he grabbed a serving spoon and fork, he offered it to her. As she took them, her hand grazed his, and a spark ran up the Beast's arm. He took his paw away quicker than he normally would, more out of surprise than anything. Belle pretended not to notice.

"This all looks delicious," she praised as she gathered healthy-sized helpings onto her plate. "Of course, I don't expect any less! Everything I've eaten has been the best I've ever had." She had to laugh at herself. "It puts my own cooking to shame!"

The Beast began loading his plate. "I didn't know you cooked."

"Well, I don't have a staff of cooks," Belle jokingly reminded.

"Oh." _Smooth, idiot_ , the Beast chastised. "Right." Holding his fork carefully between his thumb and index finger, he picked at his vegetables.

A still silence only broken by leaves rustling from the wind settled between them as they ate. Belle would take to gazing around, always finding something new to observe in the richly colorful surroundings, like the way the sun's rays shined through the branches above her, enough to make out the veins in their leaves.

Looking across the lake to the château, she could have sworn she spotted movement on a lone gondola floating along past their picnicking spot.

The Beast had been making discreet glances out of his peripherals, and saw her smile wryly. "What is it?" he automatically asked.

As she met his eyes, she decided to say, "Nothing." She turned her attention to her cold pheasant.

He perused the glassy water until he watched his servants peek over the side of a rather conspicuous gondola.

Sighing through his nose, he thought, _Not again._ He never felt like he had proper privacy with Belle, and that just made him feel more self-conscious than he already did when he was alone with her. Before, he would have been pretty furious at them for their spying, but now he could truly understand that this curse was not just about him. The stakes were high for all of them.

 _Still… do they have to be so obvious?_ he complained. _A gondola, Lumière? Really?_

He glanced back at Belle, who was stacking a few cookies onto her plate. At least she didn't seem to mind the objects' attempts at omnipresence.

Though his food was only half-eaten, the Beast set his plate down. "So… is it as good as you hoped?"

Belle swallowed her bite of raspberry-filled goodness, replying happily, "Oh, absolutely!" She glanced at his plate. "Did you not think so?"

"No, I'm, uh… not as hungry as I thought," he muttered uncomfortably. Butterflies seemed to be taking up most of the room in his stomach.

"That's all right," she assured sweetly. Picking up the book that has been at her side all the while, she fingered the cover's edges. "Would you… still want to read out here? We can go back inside if you really want to."

The expression she wore held so much understanding, proving she never wished to compromise his comfort for her sake. The Beast could hardly remember when he had felt so profoundly that another really cared about him.

Maybe he had always known the servants did, but it wasn't until recently that he had realized they were not obligated to care for him because they were his staff. Before the curse, he couldn't believe in their sincerity. If none of his relatives wanted to adopt the orphaned prince, then why would anyone else?

The Beast could question all he would like on if Belle's treatment of him was genuine, but it was her who had taught him to think differently. It wasn't that he couldn't argue with it, but simply that he didn't want to. He wanted to believe that her feelings were true.

 _As friends,_ he astutely reminded. _She cares as a friend. Period._

"Thank you for the offer," he made sure to acknowledge. "But it's… not so bad out here. We can stay, if you like."

Belle grinned knowingly. "Are the outdoors growing on you?"

The Beast huffed a deep laugh. "Maybe a little."

"I'm glad," she replied delightedly. As she stood, she informed, "I have a spot that I've been eyeing all day! I think it might be more comfortable."

He nodded obligingly. "I'll follow you."

Belle grabbed the picnic basket as the Beast snatched up the blanket, and she took him past their shored gondola to the willow tree atop a low cliff. Under its branches, Belle set down the basket under a root that curved into the ground before taking the blanket from him to lay it on the side facing the château and the water surrounding it. The low-hanging branches provided ample shade to the steadily lowering sun. When the wind blew, the sun's rays flickered between the leaves as if creating its own light spectacle.

She settled down against the trunk and the root, but the Beast hesitated. The tree was awfully close the water. The blanket was mere inches away from the edge.

Before Belle could ask, he skirted the tree before lowering himself carefully next to her. He tried to relax against the trunk.

She eyed him before glancing at the water. With the book open on her lap, she prompted, "Are you ready?"

"Mm-hmm," he affirmed casually.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

The Beast looked to be pouting. "Yes," he replied convincingly.

"All right, I'm only making sure you're comfortable," she explained with a shrug.

Belle turned the book and picked up where they had left off, but the Beast was in the process of kicking himself. This little dirt cliff was not going to collapse! Even if it did, he would be able to swim this time. If Belle wasn't concerned, why on earth should he be?

 _This is stupid,_ he chastised. _Pay attention to the story!_

" _There was, so the story goes,"_ Belle read, _"in a village near his own, a very good-looking farm girl with whom he had been at one time in love, though, so far as is known, she never knew it nor gave a thought to the matter. Her name was Aldonza Lorenzo, and upon her he thought fit to confer the title of Lady of his Thoughts; and after some search for a name which should not be out of harmony with her own, and should suggest and indicate that of a princess and great lady, he decided upon calling her Dulcinea del Toboso—she being of El Toboso—a name, to his mind, musical, uncommon, and significant, like all those he had already bestowed upon himself and the things belonging to him."_

The Beast furrowed his brow at this. "Wait, that doesn't make sense."

Belle had to smile. "Well, if he can delude himself to be a knight, then pretending a farm girl is a princess isn't so far-fetched, is it?"

"But… _why?"_

"Because the medieval times he had read about seemed more real to him than the life he was living," Belle patiently explained, before looking out at the scenery. "I can't say I haven't thought that way."

There was a delicate pause as the Beast was figuring a reply. "Was… the village you're from that bad?"

Snapping out of her reverie, Belle looked back at him with alert eyes. "No, I don't really think I can complain," she dismissed. "I _shouldn't_ , anyway. The people were nice enough when it mattered, and at least there was a bookshop. There _was_ too much gossiping for my taste, but…"

From where the Beast was sitting, it didn't sound like she missed it very much, and she was trying not to criticize it too much. That managed to make him feel a little better.

"So… what book made you wish its world was real?"

She seemed relieved to have gotten off the subject of her village. "Oh! Well, I don't know, I've read so many! I really loved the worlds of fairytales. They happen everywhere, from forests, to farms, to castles, but their worlds always seem… smaller, and simpler, but they have their own cultures and they approach their problems differently. It's—" She grinned, rolling her eyes at herself as she shook her head. "Never mind."

"What? What were you going to say?" he pressed, leaning in curiously.

Belle continued to shake her head, her smile broadening. "I know you're going to think it's silly!"

The Beast crossed his arms, bearing a kind of guile. "Tell me, and I'll decide if it is."

She stifled a laugh as he silently dared her to say it. "Okay, fine. I was going to say that… this place…" She looked out across the water again. "It reminds me of those fairytales, just in that it's in its own world, since, you know, it's so isolated from everything else. Yet it's beautiful and… full of surprises, things I've never experienced before."

Daring to look back at him, Belle was embarrassed to find she couldn't read his expression. "It's silly, isn't it?"

"No!" he hurried to say. He had been caught off-guard at the comparison more than anything. The last thing he would compare it too was a fairytale, but… "I mean… when you explain it that way, I can see how you would think that."

She relaxed her back against the tree. "I suppose I just haven't gotten used to it yet. It's all been so different from what I'm used to."

The Beast thought on that before replying quietly, "I'm sure that I would feel the same way if…" _If I could ever leave._ "… if I was suddenly somewhere else."

He could hardly imagine it, or anything outside of this place. He _had_ created his own world for himself, and so had the servants. Even though he had always felt content to stay there, once the option to leave—that is, without the risk of a scared, angry mob chasing him—had been taken away, he had then found himself chaffing at his restrictions, and wishing he could mingle with the outside world, though he had no idea what he would do once he left the castle and its forest.

Now the world interested him, and it was forever beyond his reach.

As he had been staring out across the extent of his land, Belle had shifted closer to him, and covered his hand. He turned to find her looking up at him with her hazel eyes full of empathy.

"If it's any consolation," she tried to comfort, "I really do like it here."

His heart skipped a beat. "You do?"

She her smile was full of sincerity as she nodded. Before she returned her attention to her book, the Beast spotted a rosiness on her cheeks. As she began the next chapter, her hand stayed on his. _I really hope she can't hear that,_ he thought, noting his heart palpitations. _Okay, okay, calm down, pay attention to her…_

Unbeknownst to the couple, a gondola containing the foursome of objects had parked itself underneath the low cliff the Beast and Belle sat on. They could hardly contain their excitement. Cogsworth pointed to the château, questioning them if they should depart. Mrs. Potts nodded, but Lumière hesitated to concede, only because he had hoped to hear something a little closer to a confession of love. Those things take more time than he was used to. Chip all the while was biting his lip and trying to keep his questions to himself for now, like his mother had told him to.

Cogsworth slapped the side of the boat to spur it onward. They watched the willow tree as they glided away, eager to see the budding couple but still too afraid to speak aloud and ruin their moment. At the sight of Belle cozied up to the prince, Lumière's flames went off like sparklers, and in his silent jubilation, picked Cogsworth up into a hug and spun him around in a complete circle. Even the majordomo hardly minded this, being positively thrilled at the success of this excursion, despite his own earlier reservations. Chip looked to his mother and hopped anxiously, like he _really_ wanted to talk, but the teapot shook her head, though she was beaming like the other two.

No one opened their mouths until the gondola was completely in the boathouse.

"This was _perfect!"_ "It couldn't have gone better!" "I agree! This was just what they needed."

"I cannot _wait_ to tell Babette and the others!" Lumière divulged as he hopped off the boat. "We must begin plans for another romantic excursion! At this rate, we will all be human again within a week, or _less!"_

"Now, now, Lumière, we cannot simply toss these plans together willy-nilly," Cogsworth reminded sensibly, carefully climbing onto the dock. "We are entering sensitive territory here. One tiny slip-up could crumble all we have worked for to achieve!"

"Nonsense! We must ride on the coattails of our success!" the candelabra abstained exuberantly. "We have to throw more wood into the fire before it burns out, before they forget their own feelings!"

The clock placed his arms akimbo. "Honestly, no one is _that_ fickle! We have at least a day or so to plan something grander."

"Cogsworth's right," Mrs. Potts vouched, jumping between them, though the majordomo was staring pointedly at the maître d'. "There's no need to rush into things. We have the time to think of something." She swiveled back to the boat. "Careful now, dear."

"I don't get it!" Chip exclaimed as he hopped onto the dock. "Why are you getting so excited? Belle and the Master were just talking about a book!"

Having managed to calm himself down by a couple of notches, Lumière clarified, " _Mon fils_ , Belle and the Master were falling in love!"

Chip looked dumbstruck. " _That's_ what they were doing?!" He scrunched up his nose in confusion. "It didn't sound like that to me."

"Trust me, that is _exactly_ what it sounds like." Lumière's flames are sparked again as he thought of Belle's confession. "Oh, it was sweet music to my ears! I must tell Babette at once; she will be thrilled at the news!" And he raced off as fast as he could up the steps.

As the rest followed him, Cogsworth asked the teapot, "Did you have anything already in mind to propose?"

Mrs. Potts smiled a bit reminiscently. "I think… dancing will do just the trick."

_THE END_


	3. One Year Later, Part One

_One Year Later…_

Another awakening of nature had begun, and to Prince Adam, it seemed more striking than any before. 

Perhaps because his perspective was completely reversed. The curse had been broken. He was not only human again, but a married man. His wife was the most caring, passionate, and intelligent person he had ever met. She was his savior, not just from his curse, but of his life. She saved him from himself.

When he thought on it, he was surprised he ever managed to gather the gumption to propose, but then he remembered she had taught him differently. Tears of joy had filled her eyes when he had gotten down on one knee and presented his mother’s ring to her. It fit perfectly, confirming to both of them destiny was on their side.

As much as he wanted to guarantee Belle a “happily ever after” that so often concluded her favorite fairytales, there was more to royalty than riding off in your wedding carriage into the sunset. She had never seemed disillusioned about what she was marrying into to begin with, but he regretted having to saddle her with all the responsibilities, obligations, and expectations that any aristocrat was pressed to maintain. He would carry the burden all to himself if he could.

Before Adam had reentered aristocratic society, Cogsworth had to help him refresh his memory on court etiquette, having been forgotten from disuse for a decade, along with his own family tree. The relatives that had abandoned him as an orphaned prince soon came to knock on his door, appearing quite humbled. Unbeknownst to him and the castle staff, the outside world had forgotten them during their curse, a condition the Enchantress had neglected to mention upon damning them all.

While in his father’s old study, the prince shook away his rancor. There was no point in staying angry when it was all over and done with. He wouldn’t say he was ever indebted to the witch for taking away ten years of his life—of _all_ of their lives—but admittedly, he was happier than he had ever been. The death of his parents no longer weighed on his shoulders, the resentment he had carried for his servants had turned into appreciation for their boundless loyalty, and for the first time, he felt pride in himself and who he had become. If he hadn’t received the rude awakening the curse had prompted, he shuddered to think what would have become of him.

He stood from his armchair at the desk, realizing he was running his eyes over the same line in a correspondence from Versailles. The document’s evasive and didactic jargon was starting to make his head pound.

He went to warm his face in the sun that poured from his window. Leaning his shoulder on its frame, he glanced down at the lake that surrounded the château, which he regretted instantly. His study sat in one of the higher towers, and a sense of vertigo washed over him.

He shut his eyes with an annoyed sigh as his stomach stopped churning. _If I could drain that lake, I would._

Staring out to the grounds instead, he was put at ease. A sea of green stretched as far as the eye could see as the forest trees’ leaves flourished on their branches. The annuals were beginning to bloom in the gardens, and the groundskeepers were tending to them between the parterres as he watched.

He eyed the clusters of trees that were near the edge of the lake, and found it: the lone oak that had shaded his and Belle’s picnic last year. He traced the path from there to the willow tree that was perched on its little cliff near the water. As awkward and uncomfortable as he had been, it was one of the first times he had felt hope. Hope that maybe—just maybe… Belle could think of them as more than friends.

Coming back to the present, Adam found himself smiling. Despite his convictions, it had turned out to be an amazing day. He was glad the servants had prompted him to take the initiative.

He looked back at his desk. Those wearisome sheets of parchment were waiting ever so patiently for him to peruse them. The very thought was as appealing as Cogsworth’s lecture on proper conduct to each individual in Louis XV’s posse.

The clock on the mantel read almost eleven. Maybe they could squeeze in a stroll before luncheon…

Adam shook his head, gripping his frontal lobe. _What am I thinking? It’s Sunday!_

With a renewed pep in his step, he abandoned his work and hurried to the door toward the library.

* * *

_FAUSTUS. Is't not midnight?—come, Mephistopheles, veni, veni, Mephistopheles!  
_

Enter _MEPHISTOPHELES._

_Now tell me what says Lucifer, thy lord?_

_MEPHIST. That I shall wait on Faustus whilst he lives, so he will buy my service with his soul._

_FAUSTUS. Already Faustus hath hazarded that for thee._

_MEPHIST. But, Faustus, thou must bequeath it solemnly, and write a deed of gift with thine own blood; for that security craves great Lucifer. If thou deny it, I will back to hell._

_FAUSTUS. Stay, Mephistopheles, and tell me, what good will my soul do thy lord?_

_MEPHIST. Enlarge his kingdom._

_FAUSTUS. Is that the reason why he tempts us thus?_

_MEPHIST. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris._

Belle flipped through the play’s pages to the back of the book again for a glossary, though she had already checked. No, she hadn’t missed it, because it didn’t exist.

With an irritated harrumph, she reached for the Latin-French dictionary at her side.

Her husband arrived at the library and immediately spotted her on the chaise near the fireplace, leafing through an ancient-looking tome with her brow furrowed and wearing something of a scowl.

Adam laughed. “Trying to find your favorite part?”

When Belle looked up, her frustration all but vanishing. She gave him a wry smile. “Not quite,” she replied. “I actually don’t think I _have_ a favorite part in _this_ particular book.” She held up the dictionary for him to read the title, _Vocabularius familiaris et compendiosus_.

He blinked in surprise. “We have a Latin dictionary?” But then he halted the proceedings with a wave of his hand before he rephrased his question. “Why are you reading a Latin dictionary?”

She smiled despite her current exasperation. “I _was_ reading Marlowe’s _Doctor Faustus,_ but all of his spells are written in Latin! Which makes sense,” she conceded. “But I admit, having to translate it is ruining the fun.”

“Why do you need to translate it? Why not just… gloss over them and keep reading?”

She gaped at him. “What if I miss a clue that hints at the outcome of the story?”

“Oh, right, of _course!_ ” he recalled dramatically as he took the seat next to her on the chaise. “Silly of me to ask.”

Belle nudged him playfully before she shut the dictionary and set it aside. “Did you finish replying to Versailles? That was awfully quick!”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I… haven’t even gotten through the letter itself.”

Belle smiled knowingly. “You probably should send them a reply soon.”

“I know…” He stretched his arm along the back of the chaise. “But I was thinking…”

“About what?” she said as a coy challenge, leaning in close and nonchalantly resting a delicate hand on his thigh.

Adam grinned. He _loved_ seeing Belle’s flirtatious side, and frankly he would take her up on it there and then, but he had more romantic settings in mind.

He covered her hand with his, rubbing over her knuckles with his thumb. “Well, I’m wondering why I didn’t catch you reading by the window.”

Not expecting this response, she briefly arched an eyebrow at him and laughed. “I _was_ , but I grew a bit too warm on the sill.” She fingered her dark pink dress. “I should have dressed in something lighter.”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you change before we go outside?”

Belle practically did a double-take. “Go outside?”

“Sure!” he confirmed as casually as possible. “Let’s talk a walk around the gardens.”

The way she eyed him was teasingly skeptical. “Are you sure you aren’t just putting off writing back to Versailles?”

He grimaced. “All right, that’s _part_ of the reason, but… remember that day last year when we went for a picnic?”

“I _knew_ it!” Belle exclaimed victoriously. She picked up her skirts and ran to the exit, calling behind her. “I’ll meet you by the front doors!”

Adam beamed at her excitement. It was true; she had gotten him to appreciate the outdoors.

He picked up the book she had been reading, careful not to lose her place. _The name sounds familiar._ He was keen to ask about it when Belle finished it; Even if she was frustrated with a book, she would always read it to the very end, and this one wouldn’t be an exception.

Glancing at the vast shelves around him, he scratched his head for a good book, one Belle had mentioned, but one they hadn’t gotten the chance to read. He approached a shelf that they were most inclined to pick from and ran his eyes over the titles.

* * *

 

When he got to the foyer, the front doors were open and Belle was standing at the foot of its steps in the sunshine. She had donned her old blue dress and leather flats, an outfit he hadn’t seen her wear in ages.

As he stepped outside, she spun around and crossed her arms. “You really are running at your own pace today, aren’t you?” she teased.

“I didn’t know it was a _race_ ,” he countered with a smile, glancing at his buckled shoes. “Then I would have worn more appropriate footwear.”

He let her lead the way toward the gardens’ entrance at the castle’s east side. Upon looking up, the periwinkle blue sky was clear as could be. Not since autumn had a day seemed so inviting.

Soon, freshly trimmed parterres and blooming flower beds framed their path. As he watched her from the corner of his eye, Belle took a deep breath of the fresh air, her face aglow from the noon sun.

“Belle,” Adam prompted, nodding to her clothes. “I don’t think I’ve ever said anything about it to you before, but I like this dress.”

Belle cocked her head, reminding slowly in her melodious voice, “This is the dress I wore when we first met.”

He snorted at her dubious and confused expression. “I know. That’s why I like it. You look like… you.” He then realized what he was saying and began stammering, “Not that you don’t look like _you_ in, you know, the other dresses Mme. Armoire makes for you, but it’s just—“

She laughed, touching his arm to stop him. “It’s all right! To tell you the truth, it’s a relief to wear after so long.” Her hand slid to grip his hand, her hazel eyes tender. “I’m glad you think it suits me.”

Adam smiled back at her, intertwining his fingers with hers.

They walked hand-in-hand along the winding path, acknowledging the gardeners they passed, who were not only tending the existing flora, but planting new kinds. Belle would pause to inquire on those she was unfamiliar with. There were irises, daffodils, lilies with a variety of shades in their throats, lavender and rosemary bushes, and blushing peonies, but she admired the Spanish bluebells, colorful carnations, and the rarely seen flowers Gourdon, not to mention the roses, from Castile to cabbage. A section of the gardens was especially reserved for them.

Belle sighed in wonder as she gazed over the stretch of rosebushes around a colonnade. “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of looking at these. I never knew there were so many kinds!”

Adam nodded, a contemplative line having appeared between his brows. He erased it before squeezing her hand. “Want to rest for a minute?”

At Belle’s consent, he led her to the colonnade, where curved stone benches were arranged in a circle. Ivy had woven its tendrils around the colonnade’s pillars, and already bore rosebuds fully bloomed. As Adam took in a deep breath, he found the scent of the flowers soothing.

A rose might have been the reminder of his future demise for ten years, but now…

He glanced at Belle, who was admiring the scenery with a small smile tugging on her lips. Everything that rose had signified—the curse, his imprisonment, his torment—had brought her to him, had opened his eyes and heart to being capable of loving, and earning love in return. He found he couldn’t despise what a rose was to him if it had led to such happiness.

Belle realized her husband was staring at her and met his earnest gaze. Those blue eyes of his, the bluest she’d ever seen, never ceased to make her heart pound anew. “What is it?” she asked, warmth rising to her cheeks.

Though he grinned, his ears reddened. “Nothing,” he replied innocently. He glanced away to the hand on her lap, took it, and brought it reverently to his lips.

She gripped his hand tightly, knowing exactly what his “nothing” meant, and nestled her head on his shoulder. With his arm pulling her close, they listened to the rustling of the leaves and foliage around them as birds chirped happily from their perches.

Soon enough, they continued their way around the lake, arms looped, as the sun made it glisten and sparkle, creating swirling reflections on the stone of the castle and cliffs it sat on. From this perspective, even Adam had to admire it, but he tried to be subtle in the way he kept a safe and reasonable distance from the water. Luckily, Belle didn’t seem to catch on. Still, he was determined to try and talk about it with her that day, sometime, but how to bring it up was the question on his mind.

As they approached a familiar patch between trees near the water’s edge, Belle came to a halt, and Adam made sure to come out of his reverie to see her delighted expression.

Laid out on the grass was a blanket with a delicious luncheon carefully prepared and arranged by the maître d’ himself, Babette, and Chip. They beamed when they saw the couple.

“Hiya, Belle!” Chip greeted with a wave before nodding respectfully to the prince, who returned it in kind. “Hi, Master!”

“I hope you have both acquired an appetite during your stroll,” Lumière teased, wiping his hands as he stood to incline his head to them.

Belle eyed her husband while wearing a suspicious smirk. “Did you plan this?”

Adam laughed at her expression. “This time, it was really my idea.”

“We avow it was so,” Lumière confirmed, a hand over his heart.

The princess was incredibly touched. She squeezed Adam’s arm. “Thank you so much for going out of your way,” she said to them.

“On a day like this, mademoiselle, it can hardly be seen as a chore,” Babette smartly assured.

“Oui, it was our absolute pleasure,” Lumière concurred, ushering the royals to sit. “Please, enjoy!”

As the couple did as he bid, Babette took her paramour’s hand. “ _Viens_ , let’s allow them their privacy,” she whispered.

Lumière watched her knowingly. “Yes, of course, the flowers are not going to pick themselves.”

In her excitement, Babette’s smile only confirmed his words. Before he was pulled off to the wildflowers nearby, he exchanged keen glances with the prince, who raised his freshly poured wine glass to him. Both men had secrets to divulge that day.

After Belle swallowed a bite of her sandwich, she sighed. “It doesn’t seem like a year has gone by.”

Adam nodded. “It feels as though it’s been longer.”

“Right! With the engagement ball, then the wedding, then Versailles and Paris…” Gazing up to make the veins out in the tree’s leaves above her once again, she shook her head in amazement. “And yet it looks no different than last spring.”

He followed where her eyes went and let the shades of green wash over him. “It’s… relieving to know some things don’t change after so long.”

“I hope it never does. It’s perfect, as is.” She grinned at him. “We should make this a tradition! Every spring, at least once.”

He pouted his lips in a show of thoughtfulness. “Maybe even twice,” he suggested nonchalantly.

But Belle wasn’t fooled for a moment. She took up her wine glass and toasted. “To the great outdoors!”

“And to how it won me over.” Chuckling, he mimicked her and clinked her glass.

Quiet settled between them as they resumed eating. Though Adam thought about admitting his fear, he promised to put it off until after they had finished their picnic.

* * *

In the clear, open field behind them, Babette was kneeling among a patch of daisies, braiding a crown of them as Chip was plucking herbs and medicinal plants his mother had requested. Lumière wasn’t in immediate sight, but then he appeared just behind the edge of the forest several meters up the slow incline, seeming to be on the search for something in particular.

Babette weaved the last stem into place, splaying the leaves to her satisfaction. With regality, she placed it on her head, having to smile to herself. She never thought she would wish to relive the practice from her childhood, but with so many flowers at her disposal, and with fingers now to work them, she couldn’t have passed it up. And she was rather proud of her handiwork after years of disuse.

“Chip!” she called, waiting for him to look in her direction. “What do you think? Will the nymphs of the forest deem me worthy?”

The boy smiled adorably at her, his eyes squinting from the sun. Though he still had the vivacity of a child, and his voice so far remained a high tenor timbre, he was quickly approaching adolescence. He was a mere glimpse of the man he would become, but Babette could predict he would develop a handsome visage and build very soon.

“Absolutely,” he replied with playful surety. “They’d make you their queen!”

Babette laughed. “And if they do, what shall be my first decree?”

Chip scrunched up his mouth as he thought, but waved the plants in his hand at her as he decided, “I know!” He spread his arms wide to bask in the sunshine. “To keep it spring all year round!”

Babette picked up the partial bouquet by her side and admired what she had collected. “It _is_ the best season of all, is it not?”

“I think so,” he said with a shrug, leaning down to pluck a couple strands of lavender by his foot as he listed, “It’s not too hot or too cold, everyone’s in a good mood, we’re relieved it’s not winter anymore…”

As she added another colorful bloom to her bouquet, she giggled. “That is very true. I always tire of the snow long before it melts.”

“Last winter wasn’t so bad though,” he admitted with a grin, which Babette mirrored.

The Master, Belle, and most of the servants—including Cogsworth—took to enjoying winter walks, snowmen and snow-fort building, and snowball fights with fervor throughout Christmas and New Year’s. Though it was cold and snowy, it was the fact that they were alive, human, and able to enjoy all of winter’s pleasures that made it the most memorable one.

“Ah, oui,” Babette said, thinking back on it with fondness. “I hope the winter next will be just like it.”

Glancing up at the forest where she had last seen Lumière, she wandered in that direction to check on him. As she neared the shade, pure white narcissi with deep gold throats caught her eye—just what her bouquet needed. She swiftly knelt by the large maple they were planted by and carefully began to cut one’s stem with her paring knife.

Then she felt a tickling at the back of her neck, almost like a… crawling.

With a squeal, she dropped the knife, hastened to her feet, and scurried away, clutching at the spot for whatever spider or insect could have landed on her. A hearty laugh broke out behind her and she spun around to see Lumière clutching a fern frond in his hand.

Scowling, she furrowed her brow. “ _Lumière!_ I swear, _en le nom de Dieu_ —“

“Come now, _chérie_ , there is no need to swear,” he soothed with a charming smile, tossing the frond into the tall grasses. “And I would bet,” he went on as he picked up her abandoned bouquet, “that God has a wonderful sense of humor.”

Refusing to be swayed, Babette crossed her arms. “I thought there was… _un petite bête_ on me!” she spat with a shiver. She warily glanced at the branches above her as though the little pests would ascend on her any moment.

Lumière tried to hide a chuckle, but didn’t succeed. “Yes, that was, I admit, my intention.” When she narrowed her eyes, he added, “You are only upset because after so many years, I have finally managed to sneak up on you.”

“I liked it better when you were more conspicuous,” she muttered bitterly.

“But what is romance without the element of surprise?” he reasoned as he neared her, offering the bouquet in truce.

She snatched the flowers from him. “That is _not_ the kind of surprise I had in mind.”

Lumière seemed to consider that for a moment, and shrugged in agreement. “Then is this, perhaps…” He revealed from behind his back what he had been keeping in the other hand. “… what you had in mind?”

As swiftly as her anger had come, it vanished in a quick intake of breath at the flower he held: A cluster of small lavender flowers with delicate violet veins circled the top of the stem in a cone shape, and the buds were all practically blossoming.

“Oh, it is beautiful!” she gasped, taking the hard-to-find lady orchid from him to admire it further. Stubbornly calming her wonder, she elevated her chin and eyed him. “To answer your question… oui, it is.”

He began to smoothly slip his arms around her waist. “So that would mean I am forgiven?”

As he leaned in for a kiss, Babette stopped him with a finger, a smug smirk creeping onto her lips. “I believe I need more time to… ponder your gift.”

Lumière released her, raising his hands in mock-surrender. “As you wish… my queen.” He condescended to her with a humble bow, taking note of the crown of daisies she still wore.

Smiling in a self-satisfied way that made Lumière snort, Babette retrieved the narcissus and knife. Even in a simple maid’s uniform, her hourglass figure shined through, because when she bent, the enticing curve of her back and neck was striking from the angle where he stood, and he stayed his gaze until she straightened. While in the shade, the sunlit grass beyond brought out the graceful lines of her silhouette.

“Hey, Babette!”

Chip’s call snapped Lumière out of it, suddenly aware there was still a child in their midst. The boy would learn about the enchanting world of courting women soon enough, but as much as he yearned to take action, Lumière was not going to be the one providing a sudden tutorial.

Babette looked up to see Chip excitedly beckoning to her with, “Come here, quick!” but first had to check behind her. Seeing Lumière had spun on his heel back toward the forest’s edge again pricked her curiosity in what his ventures might be for, but still she replied cheerfully, “Oui, _mon petit?_ ” while heading back down the incline.

* * *

Belle took a bite of macaroon before she noticed her husband’s brow was knit. “What are you thinking about?” she inquired. 

Adam blinked, coming back to the present. “Oh! Um…” In truth, he didn’t want to say it aloud in fear of jinxing it. “Just… wondering.”

Following his gaze toward the field, she saw Babette and Lumière part ways. “About those two lovebirds?”

He smiled, admitting with a shrug, “Guilty.”

She eyed where the forest met the sky without really seeing it. “Did I ever tell you…” Then she turned to her lap, biting her lip in thought.

Adam bent his head to meet her eyes, smirking. “Tell me what?”

He could tell she was trying not to grin, but she ended up releasing a small giggle as she growled to herself. Clearly this was some embarrassing detail she wished she hadn’t tried to mention. She nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear before freezing him with a penetrating look. “Promise not to laugh!”

Like a knee jerk reaction, he laughed anyway. “Laugh at _what?_ ”

“ _Promise!”_ she demanded with a finger, but the smile on her lips let him know she wasn’t deadly serious, but he was still a little startled by her sudden ferocity.

He gently took her hand in his, and calmly replied, “I promise, I will not laugh.”

By his tone alone, her shoulders eased. She took a deep breath. “All right… When I was younger, probably about thirteen or fourteen-years-old, I had delved into very… romantic literature.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow at this, a corner of his mouth lifting at the exasperated expression Belle wore.

“The books I read,” she went on, “were filled with passionate love affairs, some being… extramarital.”

A teasing gasp escaped him, and Belle retaliated with a flick to his knuckles, causing him to mutter, “ _Ow._ ”

Belle had to laugh, despite her look of warning. “My _point_ is that… I thought I used to want something as… unbridled as these characters were with each other, because despite it being forbidden or unethical, the only reason they stuck together was for love.” She shrugged. “Back then, I thought that was something to admire.”

Adam leaned forward, his elbows on his calves and a sly look in his eye. “You don’t think what we have is… ‘unbridled?’”

“Sometimes…” she granted with a coy smirk. “But that’s not all I think we are.” She squeezed his hand, her hazel eyes holding him in place. “I don’t just love you, Adam. You are my best friend. Outside of my father, you’re the first _true_ friend I ever had.”

Pulsing her palm in return, he reached to caress her cheek with his other hand and brought her to his lips for a tender kiss. He traced her hair behind her ear, his voice soft. “You’re my best friend, too.”

Her excited heart performed flips as she withdrew wearing a blissful smile, and sighed in contentment. “You know, not many people I’ve met or seen can say that about their spouse.”

“I guess we’re just lucky.”

Belle cocked an eyebrow, giving him a wry grin. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”

After claiming another cookie from the basket, Adam asked, “Why had you never mentioned that before? About the romance novels?”

“I don’t know, but…” She glanced at Babette inspecting a butterfly Chip had in his hands. “Lumière and Babette remind me of them, in a way.”

Chuckling, Adam nodded. “I can definitely see why.”

With a brightening of her eyes, she turned their attention to him. “Speaking of novels,” she casually said, “which one did you pick out for us?”

Belle almost snorted at his attempt to hide his surprise. “What are you talking about?” He patted his shirt, jacket, and trousers for book-shaped lumps. “Is there one on me I’ve neglected to notice?”

All-knowing, as usual, she crossed her arms. “Adam, I felt it at the bottom of the basket.”

With a grumpy pout that she always found endearing, he dropped his act. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“I still don’t know which book you brought,” she offered as consolation.

“And you won’t until we reach the willow,” he settled as though it were a punishment, but he seemed less disappointed at her words. She bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

They packed up the leftover food for snacking in the picnic basket, rolled up the blanket, and marched their way arm-in-arm to Belle’s favorite reading spot on the castle grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mjenney21 (from FF.net) had prompted in a review how it would be nice to see the prince open up about his past. I had initially shrugged off the idea, thinking, “That was all I had planned, it’s finished, I have other things to work on,” etc. 
> 
> Well, I happened to glance at that same review again, and the wheels in my head began turning. (Such a dangerous pastime, you know?) I started this last July, but got invested in it once it started getting colder. 
> 
> “Spring Fever” indeed! I miss it already!
> 
> I hope this and its conclusion measure up!


	4. One Year Later, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick reference for some French I use:  
> En garde... prêts... allez - On guard... ready... go  
> mon preux chevalier - my knight in shining armor  
> petit chenepan - little rascal

Sitting against the broad, old maple on the edge of the forest, Lumière had managed to find a cut of pine wood from a thicker branch to whittle something small. He had considered making a _fleur-de-lis_ as his former master's father had taught him, but had settled on carving a bird. The symphony of melodies they were singing from their perches had admittedly inspired him.

He was just adding the detail for its eyes with careful precision when he heard Chip say, "Lumière! Catch!"

If the maître d' hadn't looked up when he had, he might've received a bruised nose from the long stick that was tossed to him. Baffled, he glanced from the stick to Chip, and saw the boy had one in his hand similar in length and width. Near perfect sparring size, in fact.

With a stiff back and raised chin, Chip ground his stick into the dirt like a well-trained herald and announced, "On behalf of Mademoiselle Babette, newly crowned queen of the forest…"

At the mention of her title, Babette, who stood a safe distance from the pending fight, did an extravagant curtsey, sweeping her arm up, over, and to her waist like a ballerina before raising her head to reveal a mischievous sparkle in her eye. Lumière had to laugh.

"I have been chosen," Chip continued with prestige, "to fight for her honor against _you…_ " He thrusted his stick to point menacingly. "… Monsieur Lumière."

Lumière looked to Babette as though to say, _Are you serious?_ Babette only batted her long lashes and smiled with an adorable innocence that he knew was far beyond her capacity.

"Do you accept this challenge?" Chip demanded. He tried to remain in-character, but a smile wished to pull at the corners of his mouth anyway.

With a show of contemplation, Lumière set aside his pocket knife and project and got to his feet, weighing the sparring stick in his palm. "If I win," he inquired, "would that mean that I shall have mademoiselle's honor… and all that it entails?" He shot her a discreet smirk full of innuendo, which received an eyeroll from Babette in reply, despite her grin.

"Only if Chip does not win yours for me first," she confirmed, mirroring him in tone. "With all that it entails."

To an expectant Chip, Lumière nodded firmly. "I accept." And to Babette, he asked politely, "Would you do us the _honor_ of counting us in? While you still have your own, that is."

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips at his remark, but that irresistible fire burned in her gaze, a sight he lived to behold. "I am not the one you need to taunt, _chéri_ ," she reminded in a husky resonance that verged on dangerous.

Neither of them looked away from their silent battle of wills until she called loudly, " _En garde!_ "

The boys poised their defenses in proper fencing stances. At Chip's confident bearing and correct form as he had been taught, Lumière gave him a nod of praise.

" _Prêts?_ "

They both took a slow intake of breath to clear their heads, and it was most ideal where they were; the air couldn't be fresher.

Babette warily watched the two of them before she commanded, " _Allez!_ "

The word barely left her mouth before Chip attacked, lithe and quick. Lumière was a bit taken aback, but couldn't help but be pleased.

The maître d' was smiling as he blocked Chip's incoming blows. "You have improved!"

The boy grinned back without missing a beat on his taps. "I've been practicing!"

Chip took a jab past Lumière's defense, but it was batted away before his teacher took the offensive.

"With the Master?" Lumière checked. Even then, Adam practiced with him to stay in shape.

"Yep!" he answered, successfully holding his own against Lumière's attempted stabs, but not without exerting a grunt or two.

After only a few minutes, the sticks, being thicker than rapiers, were turning to what felt like rods of iron in their hands. Simply because of experience, Lumière's endurance was greater, but Chip was still putting up a good fight. However, his breathing was growing heavier and his reactions slower. His defense had lowered considerably, and Lumière soon saw the opening. He was about to end the duel when Babette suddenly screeched like a little girl.

Out of instinct, Lumière spun his head to see what was wrong, but she was only furiously wiping off her leg as she examined the ground, looking rather peeved. It only took that second for Chip to sneak in and poke him in the ribs.

"Ha _ha!_ " Chip exclaimed, victoriously thrusting his arms into the air.

Assured that Babette was fine, Lumière theatrically clutched at where he had been stabbed and let his wooden saber roll from his fingers. "Alas! My fate squandered by the false cries of my love! What cruel irony…" He made a pointed glance at Babette, who was hiding a big smile behind a hand. Taking one last staggered breath, he gasped, "And now… I _die!_ "

Then à la Shakespeare, he fell to his knees, collapsed to the grass onto his back, and became still.

A steady clap sounded. "Bravo! Both of you!" he heard Babette say, but not without giggling. In a lower volume, she spoke again, but to Chip, " _Merci, petit_ —or I should say, _mon preux chevalier_."

Lumière would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so determined to remain slain.

"At your service, Your Majesty," Chip happily replied in his dignified voice. "Would there be any more offenders needing vanquishing before I take my leave?"

"Non _, chéri_. You have served the forest well!" Babette dismissed with pride. "Godspeed!"

During a brief silence, Lumière could assume Chip was giving her a reverent bow before he heard a "Good fight, Lumière!" Then the hurrying of footsteps on the lawn grew further and further away. Soon enough, delicate steps approached him, and he felt her kneel by his side.

She huffed a laugh. "You are so dramatic."

Having to smile, he peeked at her with one eye. "Only in the best of circumstances."

"If only there had been a larger audience," she said with teasing remorse. "They would have _wept_ at such a performance."

In a matter-of-fact manner, he countered, "A lover's betrayal is always guaranteed to cause tears."

Babette gaped at him. "That was not a betrayal!" She paused before saying with more dignity, "I felt a spider on my leg."

She scowled as a few belly laughs escaped him. "Then I have died for something worthwhile!"

Babette slapped him on the shoulder, but a grin tugged at one side of her mouth. "Clearly, you are alive and well, and because I am a _fountain_ of forgiveness," she emphasized, regally clutching her breast, "I will graciously lend you a hand."

She went to stand, but he pulled her back down. "No no no," he murmured, both of his grey eyes keeping her still. "I am afraid I need to be revived."

She raised a knowing eyebrow. "How so?"

He flashed his signature one-sided smirk up at her as he brought her dainty hand to rest on his heart. "What is it that seems to work in fairytales?"

Babette smirked back, and brushed a stray hair back into his coiffure. "Hmm…" she wondered as she bent her head. "Let me think…"

Slow and rich, their lips met. Under her fingertips, she felt the pace of his heart quicken to match her own. Smoothly, he slid her hand up to his collar to wrap around his neck, their embrace deepening. As she began to indulge him, his other arm swept her onto him as he rolled. After a delighted squeal, she found herself staring up at him and his mischief-filled gaze.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smile stayed radiant. "This was your plan all along, was it not? To pin me down?"

He rubbed her arms soothingly, his grin dazzling. "Do not worry, _chérie,_ I will protect you from any pests that dare to crawl and bite you."

"Oui, but who will protect me from _you_ , the biggest pest of all?"

Lumière furrowed his brow, skeptical. "Is that really what you want? From what I recall…" He leaned in to murmur temptingly in her ear, "You rather like the way I bite."

Jaw dropping, Babette craned her neck to check their surroundings, cheeks flushing. Despite wanting to laugh, she turned to him again to hiss, "You have no _shame!_ We are out in the open!"

Second to making her smile and laugh, making her blush was his favorite pastime. Just in case, he briefly glanced at the field and near the lake. Chip was gone, and the Master had taken Belle to the willow by now.

"With it all to ourselves, _ma plumette_ ," he assured, beginning to trail his lips along her neck to her mouth." _Mon cœur—"_

" _Mon amour adoré,_ " she mimicked playfully, her voice dropping to match his register.

He met her eye and found himself stifling an oncoming laugh at her impression of him, and Babette joined him.

Once he could speak, he observed over her giggles, "She has me slain, and then mocks me! Who is truly the pest between us now?"

Putting on a tempting pout, she gently tugged on his cravat to bring him closer and offered, "I will be yours if you will be mine."

Just as he came within a hair's breadth of her lips, he delayed her instant gratification to whisper, "I believe we have an accord."

In earnest, her hold on him tightened. Without breaking their embrace, Lumière cradled Babette in his arms and stood, holding off their passion only until they were settled against the great maple tree.

* * *

Under the gentle swaying canopy of the willow's branches, Belle and Adam settled on the blanket between two arching roots. The prince had felt his heart beat against his ribcage, but couldn't have told anyone if it was more from the proximity to the water or from the anticipation of Belle's reaction to his book selection.

Luckily, she had been overjoyed when she had seen the cover. "You found a copy!" she exclaimed. "I thought I had scoured every shelf! Where did you find it?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Where all of Shakespeare's plays were."

Not falling for his attempt at downplay, Belle eyed him with high suspicion. "How is that possible?"

Adam had to smile before he explained with lighthearted sensibility, "I noticed _Richard III_ stuck out more than the rest and decided to investigate." Tapping the skull engraved on the cover, he spoke of the book like it was clever child. "Old _Hamlet_ here was caught behind it."

She shivered at the mention of the hunchbacked schemer. "No wonder I never found it myself."

With a sigh of relief, she looked to the aged tome as excitement brightened her features, a sight that always made his heart feel full. He would retrieve the moon to keep the passionate sparkle in her eyes from dimming.

They read the play with vigor, having distributed the parts between them, but they took turns for the titular character, as Belle adored his speeches. Adam was enraptured by the story. The possibility of a "Cain and Abel?" And then the queen married her late husband's _brother?_ Not to mention this Prince of Denmark was quickly becoming one of his all-time favorite characters.

They soon came to the third act, home of his most famous soliloquy. Belle finished her line as Polonius before she looked to her husband. "Why don't you read for him this time?"

Adam only had to glance at the first line of Hamlet's dialogue to recognize it. "But you love this monologue. You've recited it to me before!"

Laughing, she replied, "Yes, but I would love to hear how you read it. Please?" she entreated sweetly.

There was no way he could deny her when she asked so adorably. "All right," he said, taking the book from her hands. He cleared his throat slightly in preparation for the page-long speech.

" _To be, or not to be,_ " he began with clear, practiced intonation, " _that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing… end them_."

He blinked at the text, its meaning just dawning on him. It had always sounded so unassuming when Belle had lovingly recited it.

He licked his lips before reading on. " _To die—to sleep… no more; and by sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wished._ "

As the words sunk in, he found he had lost his voice. He heard the lapping of the lake against the small cliff of dirt they were perched on press closely on his ears.

"Adam?"

A guilt that had long been dormant pulsed in his gut, making him feel slightly ill. But he couldn't look away from Hamlet's words.

"What is it?" Belle asked with rising concern, touching his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

He slowly set the book facedown and wrapped his arms around his knees before he answered, "Belle, I have… something to confess."

Belle retracted her hand, but seemed no less eager to comfort. She patiently waited for him to say more.

The mortification he was already feeling stalled his voice, but he pushed on. "I've told you that… my parents died around the same time when I was… rather young."

When she nodded, he continued, "I have never told you… _how_ they died."

He could feel that Belle wanted to assure him he didn't have to, but he was glad she didn't. He might have actually listened, and that wouldn't help to relieve this weight.

The prince enclosed his fist into a vice. "My mother contracted… an incurable illness. Perhaps it had been from her trip to the city—we don't really know for sure. But…"

Adam pursed his lips. "When she died, my father fell ill, but from something different." He dared to glance at Belle for only a second. "They say he died from a broken heart. That my mother's loss had been too great for him to live through."

With a shake of his head, he released a trembling breath. "I… found it… very difficult to cope after that, as much as Mrs. Potts, Lumière, Cogsworth… everyone tried to help. I… couldn't shake this feeling… this urge to… _do_ something about… how I felt."

"Oh, Adam…" Belle murmured, and he knew she had figured it out.

He had to finish though, as much as the shame almost made him stop. "That same year, I tried to… do it by jumping into the lake."

Belle's jaw dropped. "So that's why you…"

Adam grinned despite himself. "You figured that out, too?"

Her shoulders deflated. "I _did_ notice it last year when you looked so… tense near the water."

"I wasn't very discreet," he admitted with a wry smile. He ran fingers agitatedly through his hair. "It was stupid—the whole thing was complete _idiocy_ on my part. I regretted it as soon as I jumped." He huffed a sarcastic laugh. "I can't even swim!"

Belle gripped his hand tightly, becoming stern. "Adam, _nothing_ about that is stupid. You were in _pain._ If I had been in your position…" She struggled to find adequate words but could only muster, "I can't even imagine!"

Forcing her fingers into his, she clasped it between both hands. "You have been through so much."

Finally able to face her, he covered her hand. "And I'm a better man for it. It's just…" His eyes drifted over the lake. "I've never wanted to admit that I had felt that way, and tried to carry it out, no less." He had to roll his eyes. "What was I _thinking?"_

She nestled her head into his shoulder, looping an arm into his and re-intertwining their fingers. He leaned his cheek against her hair. Though his heart still pounded, he already felt so much more at ease now that it was in the open between them. She continued to be this ever supportive and understanding presence in his life, and he couldn't be grateful enough that she was there.

"Thank you," she softly spoke, rubbing his arm. "For telling me."

He kissed the top of her head. "I love you."

She released a contented sigh. "I love you, too."

The sounds of the willow's leaves, and the shifting of the water's surface by the caressing breezes washed over and through them, and the prince heard the beauty in all of it.

* * *

These same winds swept the fields and flowers basking in the sunlight along the forest's edge, soothing the heat that the maid and maître d' felt on their cheeks and at their fingertips. They allowed themselves to cool off, and lounged against each other in the shade.

During her attempt to get comfortable, Babette went to move debris from the grass underneath her, and unexpectedly grasped a smoothly carved object. Bringing it out to examine, she saw she had retrieved a small wooden bird. "Did you make this?" she said to Lumière.

Turning his eyes from the view of the château on the sparkling water, he glanced down at what she held. "Do not sound so amazed," he replied with a smirk. "It is not much."

"Non!" she chastised with a nudge of her shoulder. "It's precious! I did not realize you were so skilled with your hands in more ways than one," she quipped with a wry look. "What other talents have you kept hidden from me?"

He swept the hair that had fallen from her bun behind her ear before he kissed her cheek. "None that have proven quite useful, in our case."

Biting her lip to hide her grin, she tucked her legs under her, leaning more into him. "May I keep it?"

"By all means! I had the intention of giving it to you in the first place."

Though she smiled, her expression filled with regret. "But I have made nothing to repay you! Unless you would like my crown," she offered jokingly, fingering the daisies above her ear.

"Oh no, I would never deny you your birthright, mademoiselle!" He straightened the flowers that still sat sweetly on her brow. "It suits you much more. Besides…" His fingers strayed to linger along her jaw. "With your company alone, you have already given me everything I could ever want."

Looking into his eyes, she saw as much love as she felt for him. After so many years, and all their varying ups and downs, from the monumental to the insignificant, that was the one thing in their lives that had remained constant. Her heart skipped a beat as she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Pocketing the little bird, she curled more into his embrace, burrowing her head under his chin.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the swaying stalks and distant running of water accompany her love's breathing. The scents of blooming flowers and soil blended with that of sandalwood embedded in his jacket. His warmth gave her peace and comfort, and after a deep inhale, she began to doze.

Lumière heard her breathing slow and smiled. For years, this hadn't been possible. Now he took it upon himself to hold and cherish her for as long as she would allow. Thankfully, Babette would always insist on falling asleep in his arms; the contact soothed them both.

However, he couldn't be tempted to follow her to dreamland. He stayed alert, his gaze drifting over the fields, cattails, and waterlilies to the château that glimmered on the lake before he would return to look at the garden paths. His mind whirred with potential words, proper phrasing, and tone to properly articulate his feelings, but he tried to stem these thoughts with a calming breath when his heart fluttered in his chest. He knew he shouldn't worry, but the anxiety stayed despite him. This all had to be done _right._

In the distance, he saw Chip making his way toward them. Whether he was mentally prepared are not, the time was now.

As soon as Chip could see him, Lumière put his finger to his lips. The boy nodded the affirmative before silently mouthing, _The flowers?_

Lumière pointed to the spot a few feet from him where Babette had set down her collection after the duel. _Remember the plan?_ he mouthed back.

Chip grinned and gave a salute before tip-toeing to grab the bouquet. Lumière winked at him before leaning his head against the trunk, pretending to be napping. When in position, he motioned to Chip to begin.

"Hey, Babette!"

The maid stirred at Lumière's side, and still groggy with sleep, blinked in the fast descending light of early dusk.

"Thank you for the flowers," Chip continued once he got her attention, waving the batch around. "They will be _wonderful_ compensation for my services!"

Babette immediately straightened, her eyes narrowing. "Don't. You. _Dare._ "

"I will happily return them if 'Your Highness' is fast enough," Chip offered, wearing a smirk he must have learned from the master of mischief himself before hurrying off down the hill.

" _Chip!_ Why you…!" Babette jumped to her feet, all her drowsiness having vanished. Though she was poised to race, she took a moment to give a convincingly surprised Lumière an apologetic kiss. "I'm sorry, _amour,_ I will _not_ lose my hard work! Wait here for me."

She didn't give him time to respond before sprinting after Chip, the hurried pounding of her laced work boots in the dirt proving her perseverance.

Grinning all the while, Lumière dutifully followed after them, careful to watch for stray branches and other treacherous obstacles in the growing darkness that could impede his chase.

* * *

Holding one side of the book as Adam held the other, Belle clutched at her cheek and cried, " _Ah, my good lord, what have I seen tonight!"_

" _What, Gertrude,_ " he replied in kind, establishing a very kingly bass timbre, " _how does Hamlet?_ "

" _Mad as the sea and wind when both contend which is mightier!_ " she proclaimed in distress. " _In his lawless fit, behind the arras hearing something stir, whips out his rapier, cries—"_

" _Petit chenapan_ , get back here!"

Both perked up from their immersion at the shout and glanced at each other in confusion.

"That couldn't be…" Belle thought aloud, but she stood to investigate.

Running down the field and heading for the garden paths was Chip followed by a furious-looking Babette while Lumière trailed behind. One by one, they flew past the willow's little cliff like their lives depended on it.

Belle looked to Adam, who had turned back around with a small grin on his face. "Do you know what that was about?"

His eyes flitted to hers before he shrugged. "I couldn't say. It looked like…" He raised a humored eyebrow. "Chip stole Babette's flowers."

"Hmm…" She pursed her lips in thought. When Chip carried out tricks and taunts like that, he was normally instigated by Lumière.

Adam chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen her _or_ Lumière run that fast."

She turned and smirked at him, though her mind still wondered about them.

Hoping he was really getting away with revealing the truth, he picked up the play again and held it out for her. "You were saying, my queen? I believe it was at, 'he cried, _Petit chenapan,_ get back here!'"

Belle snorted as his voice jumped to a girlish octave. His character inflections had become very good, she had to admit. He was expressive and articulate when he read, and bore such a modest confidence for this newly acquired skill that she found infinitely attractive. But his female characters definitely needed some work.

Looking to him, she noted how his eyes were eagerly scanning the next page. "Are you enjoying it so far?"

His smile widened, uttering with absolution, " _Yes!_ This is… one of the best we've read, if not _the_ best. I'm so glad I managed to find it!"

She beamed at his enthusiasm. Ever since she reintroduced the joy of reading to him, she felt such a thrill when he showed how invested he was in the story. No one else had done as much for her before, save for her father and on occasion, the kindly bookseller, Monsieur Marchand. But Adam never made her feel like he was doing her a favor. She felt and knew he loved reading as much as she did.

Books had been how she had explored the world. Now she had someone to join her with vigor on her adventures through them.

"Just wait until you read the ending," Belle hinted with mischievous delight.

As she went back to speaking her lines, Adam released a quick breath of relief at having kept Lumière's plans to himself, and silently hoped they went well.

* * *

Chip led Babette through the flowerbeds and parterres, hurtling over low ones to deter her, but Babette was not discouraged. She hopped over them in pursuit, and Lumière, though he was thrilled to see her in such activity, was forced to do the same just to keep up.

As instructed, Chip headed for the colonnade, which seemed to glow from the sunset, and made it there seconds before Babette. He set the bouquet on the middle of the stone bench and hid behind a pillar as she arrived. Though she stopped to catch her breath, she found it more due to the sight before her.

It was not the sunset that caused the colonnade to glow, but dozens of lit candelabra arranged on the ground, on the dais at its center, and sitting on every pillars' mantel. The warm flickering gleam of each candle reflected off the roses and their leaves in colorful collages of emerald, scarlet, fuchsia, and ivory.

As she registered her bouquet on the bench, a breathless Lumière strode into the light. She turned to see him clasp arms with Chip.

"Well done _, mon fils!_ " he whispered proudly. "Tell your mother you have deserved a generous slice of chocolate torte."

Babette stared as the boy fled to retrieve his prize, and Lumière slowly approached her. His infamous one-sided smirk was on display as his eyes swept over the colonnade and gave an approving nod to its appearance.

She cocked an eyebrow at him as she gestured to the candelabra. "What is all this?"

He gently took her hand and led her to the bench as he said, "My attempt at a more… romantic atmosphere." He offered her the flowers she had spent all afternoon diligently plucking from the field.

Warily accepting them back, her gaze was still full of inquiry as she took a seat beside him. His hands trembled and there was a nervousness in his expression that she was completely unaccustomed to seeing, but his eyes were determined and steadfast.

He licked his lips before speaking again. "Babette, _mon amour,_ do you remember the promise I made to you the day the curse was cast?"

She blinked at the question, but replied tentatively, "That… you would see us through until it was over, no matter how it ended." Covering his hand, she smiled. "I would say you kept your word."

He mirrored her grin and gesture, rubbing her knuckles with his thumbs, before he glanced down and softly said, "Well, _chérie…_ I have a confession to make."

The gravity of his tone was causing her brain to run amuck with curiosity, but she sealed her lips tight.

He took a deep breath before he dived in, his gaze flickering from her eyes as he spoke slow and even. "In truth, as… optimistic as I tried to be at every turn… there were times when I had wished for a peaceful end. I would often ask myself what hope there could be when, after years, not even a ghost would pass our gates."

Though he was trying to hide it, Babette could see how vulnerable this made him feel. Setting her flowers aside, she slid closer to him and arranged her fingers to intertwine with his. He looked up at her, the hope in his expression morphing into adoration as they bowed their heads together.

"But then, every time… I would think of _you_ , _ma chère_ Babette," he breathed her name, smiling like no other word gave him more pleasure, and then continued with growing passion, _"You_ were the one who kept my flames burning, who kept in me the want to survive what felt like an eternity apart from life itself. I knew long before then you were the woman who would forever have a hold on my heart, but during the curse, I realized that life mattered most to me when you were there by my side. Now…"

He swallowed as he straightened, his voice just above a whisper. "I dare to hope that you would wish for me to remain by yours as well… until death do us part."

Babette's eyes widened, her heart beginning to pound feverishly at what she thought she was hearing. It couldn't be… could it?

Then he flashed her that irresistible smirk of his. " _Ma plumette_." She grinned at her endearing nickname before he pressed on with more tenderness, "Light of my life." His powerful stare held her in place, even when her breath caught a second time, as he got down on one knee before her, his tone painfully ardent. "Will you give the happiest of men the highest honor and privilege… of becoming your lawfully wedded husband?"

Her eyes shining, she knelt to be level with him, unable to contain her joy. "Only if that man is you."

She waited the entire span of a second for him to register her response before kissing him full on the mouth, and even that had seemed too long to wait. When it came to expressing how much she loved him, she never hesitated, not for a moment. But this time, it had been worth it to see the adorable disbelief on his face.

His body relaxed instantly under her influence. Taking her arms, he helped her rise to their feet before pulling her close. The euphoria that bubbled in his chest as her acceptance sunk in caused him to laugh against her lips. Tightening his hold, a peal of her giggles sounded as he spun her around.

Their eyes met again as her feet returned to the ground, though it hardly felt that way to her. For all she knew, she was floating on air.

"Now tell me honestly," she began with that familiar inquisitiveness, though it stalled Lumière from giving her neck and cheeks the affection he longed to bestow. "Had you believed, even for the briefest _glimpse_ of a moment, that I would deny you?"

His smile, despite how he feigned a nonchalant shrug, turned bashful, another rarity on his part. "Despite how sure I was that you wouldn't, I had to prepare myself for the worst. We have done well for ourselves without needing to exchange vows, after all. Besides," he added, his expression attempting innocence, "you know how, for ages, I used to boast of my confirmed bachelorhood. Habits are very hard to break."

Smirking, Babette cocked an eyebrow and reminded, "You are not the only one who feared marriage, remember?"

"What a befitting couple we make," he teased, watching her smile widen. "If I may say so, _chérie_ , my proposal is long overdue. It is only too fortunate another man hadn't come along to snatch you away before I took the chance!"

"As if any other man could keep me so entertained," she purred.

Her beguiling blue eyes, aflame from the candlelight, entranced him beyond reckoning. Those eyes that belonged to the woman whom he credited his survival to, whom he would soon call his wife… Never had he thought the prospect of matrimony would excite him, and so profoundly. Only because of her was that possible.

Beckoning with her eyes, she lured him in for another kiss, one as amorous as any before, yet their jubilation again took over. Babette stood on her toes to deepen their embrace, breathless and ecstatic in the thought of marrying him. To have grown to be so willing and open to the idea…

Well, in all honesty, she might have said yes to him long ago had he asked. There had been no turning back when she had decided all those years ago that she irrevocably, unabashedly loved him.

* * *

The puffy clouds that hung overhead soon came to look as though they were spun from sugar. Violet shadows followed their voluminous forms as they drifted towards the darkening horizon.

With the sun rapidly setting, Belle and Adam's light source had become too dim to finish the last act. They hurried through the garden paths to return inside, as Adam was anxious to know how it concluded. Plus, since she had hinted at a duel occurring, he had half a mind to try and act it out. He had thought about offering to teach Belle the basics of fencing anyway, even if only for the sake of reenacting fine literature.

The prince had taken the lead back to the castle, but the glow from the colonnade made both of them take pause. Its light spread from between the pillars, creating spokes of shadow on the surrounding parterres and flowerbeds. Nearby trees half-glowed from the mix of darkness and light, providing even more contrast to the leaves on their branches. It was a rather stunning effect.

Adam grinned as he remembered what Lumière had accounted to him of his intentions. It hadn't seemed grand by his broad though enthusiastic description, but its execution far exceeded expectations.

Squinting her eyes from the distance, Belle could make out the silhouettes of whom were undoubtedly the maître d' and the maid he adored thoroughly wrapped in their own world.

She glanced with curiosity at Adam, hesitating. "Was this… planned?"

He brought her hand to the crook of his elbow before he resumed their walk, his smile broadening. "You know, when Lumière told me his idea, I had my doubts. But from the looks of everything, it seems to have gone… _very_ well."

Belle's eyes widened as it struck her, and she peeked over her shoulder to confirm her thoughts. "Did he—Did Lumière _propose?"_

His laugh at her awe was as good as a nod to her, and Belle clutched his arm with excitement, her dimples on full display. "That's _wonderful!_ Oh, I'm so happy for them!" But then she turned on him, brow furrowing with teasing offense. "And you _knew?_ How could you not tell me?"

He raised an open palm in surrender. "I promised not to tell a soul until it had happened," he admitted. "With my luck, Babette would have heard my whispers on the wind."

Belle consented to his excuse with humored sympathy. "I hope they will let us help with the ceremony. Especially after everything they did to make ours so memorable."

With a calm certainty, Adam assured, "I think you would be saving them the trouble of asking."

A reminiscent smile tugged on her lips, leaning more onto her husband's arm. "Now I keep thinking back to our own wedding."

"It _was_ memorable," he agreed. "I would say it was the happiest day of my life… next to the curse breaking."

With that option presented, she murmured, "Oh, you're right…" She gave him an impish sidelong glance before saying with mock seriousness, "There are so many pros to each—I just can't decide which one made me happier!"

Adam smirked but played along. "You know, my dear," he reminded astutely, "there is nothing wrong with having _two_ happiest days… despite it being a grammatical impossibility."

Belle's melodious laugh flew above the crickets' calls and trickling fountains as they neared the garden's gate. He had taken to reading with more scrutiny than she had realized! "Well, sir, in that case… I would have to say that I have no favorite."

With a cue from his skeptical expression, she continued sweetly, all joking aside, "Every day with you has felt like the happiest one."

Though the sunset was well behind the forest's trees, its light still sparkled off her hazel eyes. At her open sincerity, he felt the dams in his heart burst forth. What had he done to deserve the love and respect of this bright, strong, and spirited mademoiselle?

He tried to keep his sudden outpouring of love maintained under his shy smile as he stepped in front of her to open the gate. His throat tight with feeling, he politely bowed for her to proceed.

Her watchful study of him must have perceived how he felt. She went to oblige him, but as she walked passed, she suddenly felt his tight hold on her hand. With a single glance at his cerulean blue eyes, she could make out his quiet earnestness before his warm arms enveloped her and her lips were gently brought to his. The heat rising to her cheeks, she tilted her head to welcome his kiss with enthusiasm.

Now that they were married, Adam was grateful in times like these: When words utterly failed him, he could still express them. Even better was the fact that nothing got lost in translation. Belle understood him completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this was certainly a nice change-of-pace from the craziness of my life. Some fluff every now and then is medicating, for sure! I hope it had a similar effect for you as well. If anything, I hope, if you live with snow in the winter, this helped you feel warmer-even by just a little!


End file.
